


Painting Waves as They Danced Across the Sand

by windandthestars



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 11:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen has another gallery opening tonight and, because this one is in town and Henry's not buried under a pile of wire or boxes of parts, they're all going.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painting Waves as They Danced Across the Sand

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [AU: Artist](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/12746) by MatildaSwan. 



> Title from Tracy Lawrence's 'Paint Me A Birmingham'

Helen has another gallery opening tonight and, because this one is in town and Henry's not buried under a pile of wire or boxes of parts, they're all going. The extra publicity that comes whenever the three of them are in the same place at the same time never hurt, and Kate who's fresh off yet another world tour was beginning to feel stifled being cooped up behind the same four walls day after day.

Helen, never one to care much about clothes she couldn't get paint on, is wearing one of the only dresses she owns, soft rippling silk and the same matching ruby earrings and necklace she always wore. Her good luck charms from Kate she always said with a high laugh when anyone asked, but the three of them knew Helen had bought them herself: tiny reminders of the blessing her daughter had been. Helen hadn't thought much of art before Kate had appeared in her life that was true, but she hadn't been an artist until Ashley had fallen ill and died. Leukemia, blood red like the jewel that glittered around Helen's throat.

Kate's appearance is much the opposite: eyes glittering, lips red and pouting from where Henry had kissed her incessantly, insistently as she had fussed with outfit after outfit before the full length mirror in the walk-in closet she had confiscated from Helen when she’d moved in. 

Kate insisted she had gone with something more traditional in deference to Helen's work; she didn't want to offset the balance, draw too much attention. Tonight was about Helen. It was an endearing if improbable idea.

Helen smiled at the remark, as Henry sniped behind her, and slipped creamy lipstick against Kate's bottom lip, fixing the mess she had made of it. 

Kate had a knack for clothing, not just for inhabiting it as her modeling career had proved, but for embodying it, understanding the essence of it. Her current choice was old school hollywood glamour, over the top in a way only Kate could pull off, with a deep black feather boa and dark flirty eyes. 

"You should let me dress you some time." Kate comments quietly smoothing soft furry bristles over Helen's cheekbones.

Helen sighs and dabs at Kate's lip until the girl leans back, wiggling in Helen's lap, to get a better view of her handiwork. 

"You're beautiful. If you would just-"

"I'm not wearing mascara."

"They'll be fawning at you like lovesick-"

Helen grumbles, discounting the idea, still displeased with the attention, even after years of critical acclaim.

"It's not bad for them to love you. It wouldn't hurt to encourage them."

"I don't need them to love me. I have you and Henry."

"Damn straight." Henry chimes in with a laugh at his own joke.

Helen catches sight of his grin in the mirror and smiles back at where he's sprawled on the bed, dress shirt still unbuttoned, pants laid out over the back of a chair, his jacket on a hanger.

"You're going to wear a t-shirt, aren't you?" Kate groans and Henry shrugs.

"Geeks unite, besides you're the one who likes this over starched mess."

"I like it too." Helen shifts around to face him, dislodging Kate and her makeup brushes, "and if it makes up for my uncivilized lack of proper make up I think you should wear it."

Henry considers for a moment and then huffs out a sign. “Only because I missed your last show.”

“Her last show was in London, Hank. You were in Australia.”

“I was- It’s the principle of the thing alright? I’m wearing the shirt, try not to rip it off me until after the press leaves.”


End file.
